♡ the life of a 25 year old hopeless romantic ♡

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"This song is talking to the person you haven't even met yet. Maybe they're rolling around in the hay with someone else, but they're not as good as you're gonna be. You just have to wait your turn. He's out there, she's out there. They're just learning what to contrast you against."






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Loss. (Secret #7.)}
Tuesday, January 17, 2012 | 5:15 PM | 0Comment

Internet, don't you just hate when life comes and bites you in the ass?

As I type this, my dinner is sitting beside me, untouched. I can't bring myself to eat it. I can't even look at it.

Today was officially my last day of Winter Break (discounting all the days I did my finals on). I'd basically spent all day watching movies and being lazy. Pretty good day, right? Well.

Ten minutes ago, my dad came into my room telling me that dinner's ready. My dad's one of those people that you can immediately tell when something's wrong, you can see it written all over them. At first he just looked down at the floor. And then when my dad started to cry, I felt this unbelievable dread wash over me, because nothing in the world is worse than seeing your parents cry.

I immediately asked him what happened. I'll tell you what he told me, but first let me tell you some background.

Ever since I was 5 years old, I've gotten my hair chemically straightened. Seeing as I'm black, my hair's curly, and to make it easier to manage, my mom started taking me to a small local salon to chemically straighten it. So, every three months or so for the past 13 years, I've gone back to get it touched up.

The people who run this salon are actually a couple that have known my parents for years. Since way before they had me. And considering how long they've known our family, and how long we've known them, they're some of our closest family friends. I've always called them Uncle and Aunt. Sometimes I even forget that I'm not really related to them. But even if we're not blood related, we're family.

I still remember going when I was very young. Uncle had a booster seat that they put in the swivel chair, and they had bought it just for me. And whenever Uncle rinsed my hair after shampooing it, he would tell me to tell him if the water was too hot. And he never tugged my hair too much when he got the tangles out.

Two weeks ago, the day after Christmas in fact, we'd found out that Uncle had went to the doctor.

As of then, I had just seen him only a few days before. I'd been there to get my hair done so it would look nice for Christmas. I remember very vividly that he looked gaunt. Uncle's a tall man, very tall, and he'd always been pretty slender, but never to the point where he looked unhealthy. But when I saw him this time, it almost looked as if there was only skin pulled tightly over the bones. His cheekbones protruded, and there were heavy shadows under his eyes. I was sort of taken aback as soon as I saw him, and immediately, I'd wondered if something was wrong. I don't think I'd ever seen someone that looked so ill in person before.
The day after Christmas, we found out that he had cancer.

At that time, we didn't know what kind of cancer, or what stage it was in, so we could only cross our fingers that it wouldn't be so bad. After all, my mom had breast cancer, but it was caught so early that she was able to recover.

Well.

When dad came in my room tonight, he told me that Uncle has 48 hours to live.

I've been crying for the past hour, and the tears are still running down my face. And you know, what gets me the most is that this isn't the first time this has happened in the past month.

I didn't write about it, because it's still something that's very shocking to me even now, but I guess now I'm forced to come to terms with it.

Since we've moved into this house, we've lived next door to this family. These two women had an eight year old son, and he was from one of the women's previous marriages. They were all very nice, and my grandma even watched their son after school every day, because he happened to go to the same school as my 8 year old cousin. So they would carpool together, and they were good buds. Also, my dad had become reasonably close friends with one of the women, and they would talk sometimes when she would come to pick up her son.

The past few months, this couple was having some marital problems, and as the one close to my dad had told him, her partner sometimes had a bit of a drinking problem, and that was part of the reason they fought. Over Thanksgiving break, her partner even kicked her out of the house for a few days, that's how badly they fought. Incidentally, since she had nowhere to stay, she actually stayed over at our house for a few days. Her son was in Chicago with her ex-husband, so it was just her. We felt bad because we don't have a guest room, but she seemed willing to sleep on our inflatable mattress in the living room.

After Thanksgiving, their fights got progressively worse, and there was one particular incident when the police were called; police cars and an ambulance were directly by our house and everything. After this fight happened, this woman was basically kicked out of her house again, and her wife warned that she had a month to pack up and take her son and leave. As you could probably guess, this put enormous pressure on this woman. She basically had no place to go with her son and she was being broken up with. My dad offered her help again, and told her that if there was anything we could do, just call.

On Christmas Day, our neighbor's wife rang our doorbell.

My dad answered it, and then he stepped outside to talk to her. Afterwards, he had told us that she looked so lost, so small. She told him that her wife had died.

A few days earlier that week, she herself had gone to get hand surgery at a small hand surgery clinic. She had to have someone to drive her there and back, and, not having anyone else to ask, she asked her wife to do it, even though that was the same person she was kicking out of her house soon. Her partner agreed to, and so she waited in the waiting room as the surgery was performed.

Stay with me, here. Best Friend Rose's stepmom, 'Penny', works at this surgery center. And apparently, this is how Rosie heard about this. Yes, really. You can't make this stuff up.

As this woman was waiting in the waiting room, something happened. I'm still not sure what happened, but apparently she passed out. Then, she stopped breathing. Penny was in the waiting room at the time, and she was performing CPR, trying her absolute best to resuscitate her. My neighbor was never revived. And her partner had seen the whole thing, standing in the doorway and watching in horror.

She was young still. Only 36.

We still don't know exactly what went wrong. A week ago, we saw her paragraph in the paper's obituary section. As for her partner, we haven't heard from her or seen her since my grandma went to her funeral. And as for her son, he was in Chicago at the time of her death, and from now on, he'll be living with his father.

Can I tell you something, Internet? A secret that has haunted me deep down, as long as I can remember? Something that I've never told anybody, ever?

There is nothing on this planet that terrifies more more than death.

I'm sure there's not many people alive right now that welcome death. I'm sure this sort of fear is very common, and in fact, normal. But I swear to God, there is nothing else I can think of that horrifies me and shakes me straight to my core.

There's times when I lie awake at night thinking about it, thinking about the horror of the moment when a life is gone from this Earth and nothing is the same. Just one second. That's all it takes for a life to end and countless lives around it to be changed forever. I've laid in bed with tears falling down my face at even the thought of it.

Every time this sort of tragedy even touches the outer edges of my life, it almost makes me sick. My mind immediately goes to the ones I love. I think, what about my grandparents? My aunts, uncles? My cousins? My best friends? Whoever my future husband will be? God forbid, my parents? What if these people, these people that are so vital to me like oxygen or water or food, disappeared forever? The thought that one day, all of them could be gone...I can't even tell you the feeling I get. Words cannot articulate. It makes me want to throw up, to scream in agony. I can't live without them, but one day, I'll have to. And just thinking about it tears me to shreds.

And that's why I try to never think about it. And most of the time I don't. But every once in a while I do, and then I can't stop. Just yesterday, I was thinking about my grandfather's death. I still cry thinking about how I always told him I'd go fishing with him, but in the end, I never did.

I think that's what's scariest about death; once it happens, all the promises are left in the air and the goodbyes final, and it's too late to go back.

Uncle is in the hospital right now, and he was too weak to even talk to my dad on the phone.

I hate funerals, but it would be a dishonor not to go to Uncle's. He was a part of my life, a part of my family, and knowing that I'll never get to say goodbye and to tell him that I love him is the hardest part. The last time I saw him, I promised him that I would invite him to my high school graduation. He won't get to see me graduate now. In fact, he won't get to see his own grandchildren graduate.

He's a wonderful man. I just hate knowing that he'll leave this Earth without knowing that I feel that way. It's just so horrible. It actually kills me. I feel sick.

I don't know if I'll be able to do my school work tomorrow. I just don't know. I know that it'll give me a sick day on the very first day of second semester, but to be honest, I really don't care. I just need some time to deal with this.

Just to put it out there, I might not update for at least a week or two. I hope you guys can understand. I just need some time.

xo Hopeless Romantic

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29 Year Old's message.}
Monday, January 16, 2012 | 8:53 PM | 0Comment

Hey you little devil you.

I am a tall nerd. Well actually more of the science nerd type. You sound like a great girl and I'd like to get to know you better. I'm (insert real name here)...

See, I'm hard pressed about this. This is a sweet message. It really is, truly. It's very rare that I get nice messages like that. It's not like he's a sleaze ball or a douche bag, or he's illiterate, or anything. And I read his profile, and honestly, he sounds very intelligent and like a man that knows what he wants in life. And that's wonderful.
But 1. He mentioned he's only looking for someone age 21 and up. Maybe he accidentally overlooked my age?
And 2. I just need to be honest here. A grown man who has traveled to countless places, not only literally but in life in general, with a home schooled 18 year old who's still trying to trudge through the second half of her senior year? Tell me we'd have much of anything in common. And I mean, anything. Exactly.

So I'll just do both him and I a favor here. But I hope he finds a classy lady that can keep up with his lifestyle, he deserves it.

xo Hopeless Romantic

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Small Miracles.}
| 4:12 PM | 0Comment

Internet! Guess what!

Not only has my school life improved by 50% since the last time I wrote, but also, my stress rash is gone! YES. NO MORE ITCHY.

So basically, late last week, I found out from my counselor that my AP class doesn't actually end until the 26th, which gives me WAY more time to catch up! It doesn't guarantee that I'll finish, but still, I'll have more time to try! YES AGAIN.

Also late last week, I finally took my Stats final after days of super hard studying. And in the end, I got..................

...........A 92 FREAKIN' PERCENT.

OKAY. May I remind you that I've never in my life ever gotten a 92% on ANY Math test. EVER. So this is a HUGE FREAKIN' DEAL.

I still don't quite understand how it happened, even though I did study forever for it, but wow. If there was any time I believed in small miracles in school, this is one of them. I'm still in shock, but it has reduced my stress levels by about 70%. I'm SO relieved.

Now that I've finally gotten past this (mostly) I can afford to have a life outside of school again. Whew.

So, let's talk about English Teacher. And OKCupid.

So, I did end up messaging English Teacher back, per Best Friend Rose's request. (Actually, it was more like she forced me to. My fault. I showed her his pictures, and she was hooked. She said she'd be all over him if she were me. Oy.) Due to my skiddishness, and the fact that I'd freaked myself out over the whole teacher thing, Rosie had to type my response for me (allowing that I approved it first, of course). Basically, it said something like 'Yeah, sure, I'm always up for a chat! And thank you, that's a huge compliment!'

After that, he said something about how everyone should compliment everyone more often, and that everyone would be happier. Then I agreed with him, and then he said to ask him anything, that he'd be up to answer it. (Questions of that nature confound me every time. What does 'anything' mean? What's your favorite color? Or, what's the meaning of the universe? Or maybe, how many toes do you have?)
After asking for ideas from Rosie (I was stuck again. Facepalm.), she suggested that I ask about how he started teaching. So I did. His reply was basically, 'Long story. Are you ready for this?' I said something like, 'Oh boy, haha. Ready!'

His reply was practically a mini-novel, starting at how he hated school as a teen and then by chance, he was given the opportunity to teach an English class to non-Native English speakers by his college. After that, he studied for a bit overseas, and the rest was history.

I admit, it was a very cool story, although long, and I told him thanks for telling me all that, and wow, he seemed to really love teaching. I told him I admired his passion for it, and that I've actually considered going after teaching once or twice, but that I didn't think I'd make a good teacher.

And he said (as best I can remember), 'You know what? At one point, you couldn't walk. You couldn't dress yourself. You couldn't feed yourself. But you learned how to. Humans teach and learn all the time. There is not one thing on this Earth you can't be taught to do.'

Smart dude, right? I was pretty impressed. I told him thank you for telling me that, that I needed to hear it.
He said you're welcome, and you're a sweetheart for reading all that. (Not even going to lie, my entire face turned red at that part. I know he meant it in a completely harmless way, but dammit. You can't be so hot and call me that and expect me not to react that way!!)

So by now, it was the day before Christmas Eve. I was texting Best Friend Rose, and she casually brings up that, HEY, our friend Jezebelle also has an OKC, and English Teacher messaged her too!

Um. What.

I found out that he didn't flirt with her or anything, just asked her if she'd ever considered studying overseas, but it still slightly pissed me off, to be quite honest. (To clear things up, I LOVE Jezebelle, so it's not like I hate her and I was pissed that he even talked to her at all. So not like that. It's just that since the 8th grade I've seen guys fall all over Jeze all the time--understandably, because she's gorgeous--so, I'll be the first to admit that I was probably a teeny bit jealous. It was nothing to even be jealous about, so I won't even justify it.)

So even though she didn't respond to him, I decided, okay, time to wrap this up. I realized at this point that he probably didn't see me as anything other than a prospective student anyhow(because earlier he'd casually mentioned he'd taught people that were my age--huge red flag), and I'd had enough lectures (although they were insightful).

So, on Christmas Eve, I just said, 'No problem, it was my pleasure!' and that I hoped he would have a great holiday. He replied that he hoped I would too, and that was the end of that.

Part of me wishes I'd continued to talk to him, but it was for the best. Even if he saw me that way anyway, and even if I decided I didn't have an issue with his age, it probably wouldn't have worked out anyway. So long, English Teacher. It's been fun.

In other news, last night I got a message from a 29 year old.

..........Am I jailbait, or? I mean, technically I'm legal, so I can't be jailbait, but still. About a month ago, I even got two--count 'em, two--31 year olds messaging me. THIRTY FREAKIN' ONE. ALMOST TWICE MY AGE. WHAT IS GOING ON??

I also kind of find it ironic that the 29 year old was very interested (Greeted me with 'Hey you little devil you'. I kid you not.) and I don't necessarily reciprocate, and yet the smoking hot 25 year old teacher was only interested in teaching me life lessons while I was working hard to suppress inappropriate comments, like about how his smile was like the light of a full moon shining through a patch of clouds at midnight. (IDK. HE'S JUST...HE'S HOT. LEAVE ME BE. My hormones, okay?)

So, you know. Oh well. There will be other hot guys.

In the meantime, I need to get back to work on this catch up AP stuff. There's two papers that are collectively 800 points, so I need to get them done most of all. If I can manage to do that and pass the semester final, I might actually have a chance at this. And if worse comes to worst, I can ask for an extension, too. So, here we go!

By the way, first big update post with no microscopic font. My eyes feel better already.

xo Hopeless Romantic

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By the way...}
Monday, January 9, 2012 | 12:52 PM | 2Comment

I'm thinking of nixing the super small font. Sure, it helps compact when I write whole novellas for posts, but I'm getting blinder and blinder and it's getting hard for even me to read it now. (Though that may just be my vision getting worse in general. Did I mention I was 60/20 in May 2010? Yeah. I know.) Plus, then you guys wouldn't need magnifying glasses to read my blog. Hahaha.

So, yes? No? Or is it just my near-sightedness getting to me?

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School, school, and uh. Oh yeah. SCHOOL.}
| 10:50 AM | 2Comment

Internet, right now, I'm in the midst of my final exam week. (Yeah, after my Winter break. I know. Weird online school thing, I guess.)


Also, I'm in the midst of trying to catch up with my AP Lit lessons by the end of this week, aka the official end of the First Semester, which is never gonna happen, tbqh. Here's how that basically happened:

So. The day I started AP Lit, I immediately began panicking about it. The DAY OF. And it was because the first day of the class, we had to read the class expectations and requirements. And I flipped out. Something inside me just knew right away that I had gotten in over my head. This was the first AP class I've ever taken, and I had expected it to be harder. I just didn't realize how much harder.

But I continued the lessons. Some of it I didn't like, but some of it I surprisingly did like. I liked that all of my fellow classmates sounded smart, like me, and that I didn't have to dumb myself down for class discussions. (Virtual discussions, pretty cool. They're sort of like little forums, people make their own individual 'topics' and then everyone goes into the different topics and...well. Discusses. Pretty fun, actually. And considering I've been visiting online forums since the 2nd grade, I really liked it.) I also liked--at first--the slightly more challenging nature of the topics covered and discussed.

But. By the time I'd started our Odyssey unit, I was done for. This was like, what, our third unit? But I was already sick of all of it. The two units we'd already gone through, we had already had a few essay assignments, and each and every time, I would worry myself sick over them. I was constantly thinking of how I was in an advanced class now, and that the same old crap I wrote for my old English classes wouldn't cut it.

My emotional breakdown in October should've been my turning point. I should have realized then that I'd reached my breaking point. I should have done something then.

I was constantly worrying about HOW I could write better, WHEN can I finish this, WHAT will my teacher think if I fail, etc etc etc. So by the Odyssey unit, I just...shut down.

I completely just...stopped. Everything. It was like my mind had overloaded, and I couldn't stand to read anything. I didn't even want to look at books. I couldn't write, I physically couldn't write. I couldn't write anything. That's why when you look past on my past entries before December, they're basically nothing. The end of October, and all through November, I was stuck. Forcing myself to write then was like cutting a vein open. It was painful.

And it's not like I've never gotten writer's block before. I have, and plenty of times. But this time it was terrifying because I needed to write for school, for this class, and I just...I couldn't. It felt like if I started typing, I'd throw up or black out or have a panic attack, or something. It was literally like I hated writing all of a sudden. And that's never happened to me before.

So when Winter Break finally came, and I began to come to my senses again, I realized what I'd done. I was half a semester late in my class, and it was entirely, 100% my fault. I'd let my fear get to me, and I couldn't even function.

After my last final, I'm going to do some more catch up work. I'd already done some last week, but it wasn't that much, compared to the amount left. The thing that sucks the most about AP is the workload. I only have 13 lessons to catch up on, but dammit. Each lesson has nearly about a week's worth of work for each one, not to mention the two research papers ahead of me. Two research papers in a week. Mhmm, yeah. That'll work out just peachy.

I'm not a quitter, but I like to think that I'm a realist. I'm not going to finish this work in time. And even if I did finish all the work by Friday at 10PM, I would still have the final left. And if I didn't even do the final, I would fail anyway, and all of my hard work would have been for nothing. So honestly, I don't see the point.

I won't give up yet. I'm still going to do my best to catch up, but if I fail, at least I'll know I tried.

I'm so angry with myself for letting this happen. I let myself down immensely, and not only that, but I feel like I've let everyone else down, too. I even sent a long apology email to my teacher, because I felt I needed to let her know that I take full responsibility for my failing her class, and that I needed to apologize for wasting her time. She accepted my apology with grace and even let me know she was sorry that I was struggling, and encouraged me not to give up just yet. Such a nice lady. Crazy to think that I was scared of her for four months.

If I'd just asked for help earlier, I'm sure she would've done her best to help me then. Why did I resort to running?

It was a shitty thing that I did, especially for my Senior Year, but I suppose it wouldn't be High School if I didn't royally fuck something up once a year. (Profane sentence is profane.)

But I intend on making up for it. I plan on switching out of AP and getting into English 12 instead. Then, I'll take two semesters of English 12 at the same time so I can make up for the credit I failed to get for AP. Crazy, yes, but I've done crazier. Plus, I almost can guarantee that two semesters of workload for English 12 at the same time will still be easier than AP Lit. Seriously. In fact, I'm looking forward to it. I just want to enjoy English class again.

So, speaking of finals, I'm finishing up reviewing for my last one as we speak. My Stats final. And I've come to this conclusion.

My math teacher sucks.

I've actually had him for a teacher 3 times consecutively. I had him during Sophomore year for semester one of Geometry. Then, I had him for semester one of Algebra II. First semester of Geometry? Failed. They switched teachers for me the second time around of semester one Geometry, this time a nice lady teacher. Passed with a B.

First semester of Algebra II? Passed, but barely, and I mean barely. Completely bombed the whole semester up until the final, stayed up three nights in a row studying hard to pass the final, and my final exam grade saved my whole grade. I had another teacher for semester two again, and did swimmingly until that whole exam fiasco that went down.

Anyway, in summary: Other teachers + me + Math = Pass. This teacher + me + Math = Fail. Epically.


Maybe it's just because his teaching methods don't mesh well with the way I learn. Maybe it's something else. But I was just not destined to be in this man's math classes. Period.

It's too bad. He seems like a nice guy, in fact he was the teacher that worked out that Algebra II final retake much earlier this year, and I think I'll be eternally grateful to him for that. But his classes? Hmm. I don't know, I just don't know.

This semester I have a C in Stats so far, which means that if I bomb this final I'll have to do the whole double-semester thing with another class if I want to graduate in June. Which would suck ass, obviously. And so would not graduating. That too.

So. As you could probably guess, all of this has put monumental stress on me. Last Wednesday, I even developed a rash all over me. My mom (a nurse) figured out that it's not from allergies, and it's not from a virus. It's a stress rash. Like my body is physically rejecting all of this pressure. Not cool.

Dammit. Nobody ever told me Senior year would be this difficult. Perhaps this is my reaction to Senioritis? I'm getting the sinking feeling that this week will be the week from hell.

In other news, Feli! I saw your comment, and I'd be happy to write a bit about that. After reading all of this post thus far, you probably get that I'm not the best person to ask this (lol) but, here we go anyway!

How do I focus on my classwork/homework? Mostly, I just have to sit my deriere into my chair in the morning, shake the sleep off, and do it. I realized that I have to make a conscious effort to focus, or I won't. Like, if I just sit there and stare at the screen and wait for the focus to come to me, it won't. And I usually if I'm waiting for the focus, I start focusing on something else.

Like daydreaming. Oh, dear God. I'm one of those people that would just lay around living in their own head, if they could. I could think of every scenario in the world, just sitting and staring for hours. The world is so interesting in there. I could just live in my fantasies and dream worlds and never have to face the real world. This is why I write, because my over-active imagination leaks into my real world too easily if I don't. It's how I keep myself sane, basically.

Anywho, I just have to make myself focus. And usually with the harder subjects, it's definitely much harder. Usually what I'll do is I'll read out loud. Reading out loud helps my reading comprehension when I learn things. I'm telling you. Reading comprehension = easier learning. I promise. And then, when that doesn't work, that usually means that I need a break.

Leave the room for like fifteen minutes, go do a quick 15 minute workout, or go fix a healthy snack. I know it sounds like I'm promoting weight loss or something, haha, but I swear it really does help! Once I eat healthier again (I lapse out of it every once in a while, who doesn't?), and I start working out (not even going to the gym! I hate gyms. I just do these little 10 minute video workouts on my workout mat, so easy. Go Youtube 10 minute workout videos, so many of them! And even when I feel like I don't have time for that, instead I jog in place for a while, or do some sit ups, or run up and down the stairs, etc.) it helps my head be clearer. I'm not even an athletic person--at all, really--but whenever I live healthier, I feel so much better, and when I'm healthier, schoolwork always seems easier to me.

So, my advice to you: just sit down, clear your head, and read aloud. And when it becomes too much, take a quick yoga break, or Cheerio break, or whatever. Take a deep break, and work through it one step at a time. I know sometimes hard work seems impossible, but just chill. Take your time. And if you need help with something, please. I beg of you. Don't wait until you're absolutely buried under stress and fear, like I did. Ask for help. Ask your teacher, or a good friend, or even a parent. I know how it feels to feel inferior because you don't understand something. I handled it the wrong way. Trust me. Ask for help.

And then when you're finished with it all, you can do this: http://youtu.be/MdN0NXgjsn8

Hope I helped a little bit!

Now if you'll excuse me, I'll be re-applying my calamine lotion and studying for this final that I absolutely cannot fail. Ahem.

xo Hopeless Romantic

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Dear 2011 era Sarah:}
Sunday, January 1, 2012 | 9:20 PM | 3Comment

Well. 2011 was a helluva year, wasn't it?

For you, it meant a year of firsts, and also one of some hardship.

First of all, there was Drew. Your first...um. Date? Yeah, let's call him that. The boy you went on your first date with. And even though the date goes well according to your experience (which admittedly isn't saying much at all), Drew stops texting you.

In fact, he stops showing any sign of interest, at all. But it's okay, because you bounced back from it quick, and you end up learning from it. The whole Drew situation was basically the first time a boy had shown any interest in you for a while, and it was a good lesson.

It showed you that, yes, there will be boys out there that will show you interest, so there's no need to stress about it. Everyday out there, there is some guy interested in some girl. It really happens. Always. And one of these days, you'll see it happen again for you. You won't see it coming, and you can't force it, but it will happen. Just wait. When it does, you'll realize you had nothing to worry about.

Also in 2011, you had a Summer full of fun and awesomeness, and it will probably be a Summer you'll remember for a while. What can get better than that?

Unfortunately, you had quite a few hard times this year, too.

The realization of the end of high school began to close in on you, and you started to panic. You started to panic about the huge changes coming your way. Applying for college. Going to college. Leaving home. Getting a job.

Change is scary. I know, I get it. But there's no use worrying about something that hasn't happened yet. In your mind, the future is huge and dark and terrifying. But guess what? When it actually happens, it probably won't be nearly as bad as you anticipated. You always worry. About everything. Always making anthills into mountains. Why?

Some huge education trials did their number on you this year, too. There was that huge final situation at the end of your Junior year, and then there was the first semester of your Senior year, when you got behind in your AP class. You know why these things happened in the first place?

You.

You always put pressure on yourself. Always trying to be perfect, always pressuring yourself to be flawless, and in the end it destroys your resolve. You shut down. A monumental wave of fear envelopes you, keeps you from doing anything at all, drowns you in a pool of self-loathing. Why are you so afraid to fail? It's okay to fail. Even the very best at what they do have failed.

You don't have to be perfect, Sarah. It's okay.

So, let's promise each other this: 2012 will be the year of action.

Action to actually start loving yourself all the time, instead of when it's easy to. Action to bring to pass what you want instead of just wishing for it. Action to do what you're afraid to do, because standing around and worrying about it will just bring you more pain in the end. Action to do your best, whatever that may be, not to be perfect.

2011 was tough. Some of it did quite a number on you. But get up, brush the dust off your clothes. Take a deep breath. Breathe out. It's a new year, a new start. Don't make last year's mistakes again. Start over. And together, we'll kick some ass.

Let's do this.

xo Hopeless Romantic (aka 2012 era Sarah!)

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